


hold on to the ties that bind

by orphan_account



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, I'm writing the parabatai/lucelia content I'm desperate for, Multi, breakdowns, lucie POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25175659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Lucie realizes the true weight of all the secrets she carries, and she and Cordelia FINALLY have the conversation they need to have.
Relationships: Cordelia Carstairs & Lucie Herondale
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	hold on to the ties that bind

Lucie and Cordelia sat sprawled on the thick rug, as close to the fire as they could get. Outside, snowflakes dusted down slowly, the sky the darkening gray of winter twilight. Lucie shivered and wriggled closer to Cordelia, trying to warm up while waiting for the heat of the fire to spread into the room. 

The two girls had just returned to the Institute from a late visit to Anna’s. Left alone, they had taken the opportunity to go read together in Cordelia’s room. It had become unreasonable for Cordelia to always be a guest, as she was constantly in between her own home and the Institute- and so she was unofficially declared a member of the household. She was spending the next few days there with Lucie again, although for once they weren’t preparing for their _parabatai_ ceremony, or training, or studying- just being together. 

It was nice, if strained. Lucie could never feel uncomfortable around Cordelia, but even now as they grew closer she felt as though an invisible wall stood between them sometimes. Lucie could not prove that such a barrier was there, but there were times when she tried to reach to Cordelia and it felt pointless, like hammering on sound-proofed glass. Her best friend was unreachable from the other side. 

Maybe Cordelia was pulling away, or maybe it was Lucie herself. After all, Lucie was keeping a great many pieces of her heart locked away these days. 

Cordelia’s voice, uncharacteristically low, interrupted the quiet. “Lucie, are you all right?” she asked, looking unsure. “You look far away. What are you thinking?”

There was a time when Lucie would never have hesitated to answer truthfully. Now, though, she only said, “I’m all right, Daisy,” and offered her a small smile, a pathetic half-attempt at reassurance. 

Lucie sensed there was more she should say than that, and indeed there was more she _longed_ to say. For a moment she was about to continue- but Lucie could not bring herself to. She only closed her mouth and returned to her novel. Feeling Cordelia’s eyes on her, she stared fixedly at her book, her gaze unfocused on the printed words and her mind worlds away.

Cordelia did not push further, but reached her still-gloved hand to pick up Lucie’s and squeezed it, leaving their hands loosely clasped as she turned a page in her own book. Lucie’s heart clenched at the gesture, thinking of how every day brought her closer to Cordelia and yet farther away. Could one have so many secrets and still promise yourself to another person? Wasn’t it cruel and unfair to let Cordelia become tied to someone who hid so much?

Lucie wondered if it was easier to become _parabatai_ when one was very young, before the line between honesty and deception blurred and protecting who you loved became your top priority, over truth and goodness. She thought of James and Matthew, visibly more isolated from each other by the day, and shivered. 

“Where do you want your rune?” Cordelia asked her abruptly. “Your _parabatai_ rune, I mean.”

Lucie was a bit taken aback, but the corner of her mouth quirked up in pleasant surprise. She touched the side of her neck lightly, and said, “Here. Every time I feel my heart beat I will be reminded of my soul’s sister, because she will be with me until my heart does not beat any more.” Lucie smiled a little, this time more genuinely, and she said, “And you? Where do you want it?” 

Cordelia hesitated, and then said, “I am not yet sure.” It had a sort of finality to it that sounded grave and sad. Then again, in the past weeks there was nothing around them not shrouded in solemnity.

Lucie nodded, showing no reaction, and looked back down at _The Time Machine_ even as she felt her heart sink, disappointed for a reason she could not place. On impulse, Lucie took up Cordelia’s other hand in hers. Cordelia looked up at Lucie, startled and tentative, but she did not pull away. Their books lay forgotten beside them as the two girls regarded each other, their hands tightening in each other’s.

Lucie knew suddenly that she had not imagined the distance between them; and in fact both girls were painfully aware of it. It was as though the tension there was a tightly stretched cord, neither of them willing to let go of the end nor step closer to slacken it. Cordelia’s kind, dark eyes were cloudy, shadowed with hurt, and Lucie wanted more than anything to ease her heart. She wanted to say, _Daisy, Daisy, my Cordelia, I’m so sorry. I should have come to you. I wish you had come to me._

She couldn’t, though. Not when there was this ever-growing gap between them, not when she got a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that something dangerous was about to happen. It felt like falling off a cliff, and Lucie did not know the distance she was falling, whether she would be caught or slam into rocks below, the number of bruises she would rise with. If she would rise at all. 

Cordelia and Lucie were still staring at each other, suspended in time, uncertainty hanging over them for a long and awful moment. And then a sudden heave went through Lucie’s body, and another; and she was breathing rapidly; shallow, shaky, letting go of Cordelia’s hands to clutch at her sides as great and silent sobs wracked through her. She was unbalanced, grieving, lost at sea. Tossed between merciless waves. 

Within seconds gentle hands pried her own away from her body, and Lucie crumpled into Cordelia’s arms. Whatever was between them snapped then, ugly and gutted and choked sounds ripping themselves from Lucie’s lungs, but still Cordelia wrapped herself around Lucie. She held her tightly, refusing to let go.

No matter how wretched Lucie became, Cordelia’s arms remained firm around her, a comforting pressure smoothing down her hair over and over again. Lucie muffled her sobs and screams into Cordelia’s neck, one of her fists wrapped in soft red hair, until her throat was raw and she could not cry out any more. Only when she felt the shoulder of her dress soaked through did she realize Cordelia was also crying, less harshly but just as sad. 

At last Lucie’s shaking stilled, the stream of tears down her face slowing a little, and she pulled back slightly. Cordelia looked sorrowful, but she rose, breaking contact. Lucie wanted her desperately to stay. 

The thought must have been written all over her face, because Cordelia knelt down and whispered, looking intently into Lucie’s eyes as if to make sure she understood, “I’m going to go to your room and get you a change of clothes and some tea. Will you be alright if I go do that, Luce?”

Lucie felt relief crash through her. It seemed there was no emotion _not_ overwhelming to her now. She nodded, and tried to breathe in deeply as Cordelia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and rushed out of the room, with a single worried glance back and many assurances that she would not take long. What had Lucie done to deserve her Daisy, who did all of this for her without hesitation or judgement? 

Lucie shifted so her back leaned against the board of the bed, and turned her head to the side to gaze out the large window. In the streets below, carriages rattled over the snow, dirty with the soot and grime of the city. Men in heavy, dark cloaks hurried along, eager to get out of the cold. Though it was gray and gloomy, there was a sense of cheer- Christmas was coming, and everyone had a little bit of spring in their step, a glow to their hearts, an inclination towards unusual kindness to strangers, even if it was just the slightest bit. 

Lucie had never felt more detached from the mundane world joys of the world than she did in that moment. 

Cordelia returned, setting down steaming mugs of tea, but Lucie only briefly looked at her before turning her gaze back to the world outside. She tried to feel something, to look for the spark she usually felt blooming in her chest when she imagined the countless untold stories she did not know yet, but Lucie only felt hollow, and separate. Distantly, she heard inquiring voices at the door, and Cordelia’s hushed voice shooing them away, and the soft pad of her footsteps over to Lucie. 

Lucie straightened a little, knowing what she must do now, and patted the space beside her. She had expected Cordelia to come sit down, but she did not. Instead Cordelia shook her head. “I know there are things we must talk of, Lucie. I know you want to do that now. But you must give yourself some time first. Get out of that dress, splash some water over your face. Here, start by drinking this,” she said, handing Lucie a mug. 

Lucie felt the truth of her best friend’s words. She sighed and raised the mug to her lips, drinking the tea. Though she could not taste it, or draw any solace from its warmth, Lucie felt a stab of gratitude for Cordelia, who was dependable and responsible and strong for Lucie when she could not be those things herself. 

The next few tasks she did felt mechanical; her body was moving to complete them automatically even as thoughts and emotions tore through her mind like a cyclone. As instructed, Lucie changed into the nightgown, washed her face, and had just begun to untangle her hair, seated at the vanity table, when she felt Cordelia take up a hairbrush and do it for her. 

“Let me,” she said, her hand a gentle grip on Lucie’s shoulder. Belatedly, she noticed that, though Cordelia had changed out of her own tiresome dinner dress, she was still wearing gloves, and made a mental note to ask about it later. For now she closed her eyes, steadying herself, and then opened them again to meet Cordelia’s gaze in the mirror. 

Lucie took a deep breath. “There is a story,” she began. “A story about a girl in a forest…” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Let me know if you'd like a part two where they come clean to each other "on the page" or if you think I should leave it open-ended.


End file.
